


The Messenger Girl from Squad A

by Arenoptara



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Self-Pity, Strong Language, angsty fluff, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arenoptara/pseuds/Arenoptara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four years since the end of the Second Sorceress War, and finally Selphie feels it's time to take that long vacation all the others already have. She goes to the orphanage, all repaired and glorious again, to relax for seven months. The caretaker, however, is someone she does not expect: Seifer Almasy</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Messenger Girl from Squad A

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of Seifer Almasy's 34th(?) birthday! Love you Seifer :)
> 
> Thanks to Lily for betaing as per usual. <3
> 
> (I'm Seifie trash)
> 
> Note: I use Hyne, and also goddammit. This is solely because I don't like how hynedammit sounds, but I like Hyne as it stands by itself. I'm weird. w/e. I know it's there. I know. Just go with it.

If she had known he’d be there, Selphie would never have gone. There was no indication from Matron that anything needed to be asked. Perhaps that was a stupid assumption on Selphie’s part, knowing that Matron had renovated the orphanage and then moved permanently to Garden to be with Cid. Someone had to take care of the walls, make sure it never fell to ruin again. Then again, Selphie consoled herself in the knowledge that literally no one could have guessed Matron would choose the caretaker she did. Even if four years had passed since the Second Sorceress War, none of them had had any contact with him. Selphie had no idea what he had even been doing with himself before Matron tasked him with caring for the orphanage.

In hindsight it made perfect sense. He had nowhere to really belong to anymore except the place of his childhood--the place of all their childhoods. That’s why Selphie herself had gone there. After the war, she’d kept on full steam ahead with being a SeeD, even when the others gave themselves a rest period. With four years of that in her body, she finally felt the time was right--the others said she finally gave into her exhaustion--to take her own break. Cid granted a seven month leave of absence without, seemingly, a second thought, almost as if he couldn’t have planned it better himself.

The orphanage was empty when she arrived with just herself and her bags. A year ago when Matron had informed them all of the renovations, they’d celebrated. Only Squall and Rinoa had managed to stop by again to see it in its revived glory. Irvine and Quistis had preferred to let the orphanage live solely in their memories, more content with living in the lives they had made for themselves than anything long past. For Zell, he really wanted to go all the time, but something always distracted him away. Selphie alone stood within the stone walls, a smile on her face as all the memories came back, fresh and sharp.

Everything was so quiet all the time, with only the ocean and seagulls to narrate her time there. The relative quiet made her pine for the noise and excitement of Esthar, but at the end of the day, when she nestled down into a hammock she’d set up outside--a safe distance from the cliff--and closed her eyes, letting the ocean and the warmth lull her to sleep, she remembered exactly why she had chosen this destination for her leave of absence. It was a break, after all: a vacation for the purpose of resting, not exploring and traveling. Esthar would wait, and she would too.

Most of her time she spent writing. Quistis had mentioned more than once how much it had helped her release some of her anxieties and fears, a lot of them stemming from the war. Selphie had no skill in artfully arranging words, taking more to a style of short blunt phrases with too much punctuation and capitalization, and even tiny faces that usually looked angry. The notebook was a mess, but it felt better than talking to a computer and having every word taken down so exactly and perfectly.

On her seventh morning, as she was sitting on a rock and staring out at the ocean, notebook on her lap, she heard the back door open. She made a correct assumption that it was Matron’s caretaker, but incorrect in the belief that it was most likely a stranger. Rather than turn around and say hello, she threw a zealous hand in the air and waved.  
The caretaker said nothing.

When she focused on his presence, her hand fell softly onto the notebook. Carefully, she closed it without a sound. She held both the pen and book up to her stomach as she stood up and turned around. A stream of incoherent noises came out of her mouth, with the intention to be words, but she had no idea what words they were supposed to be. A tiny giggle came out, unintended, but she never really had control over that particular noise. 

His face made no change, no indication he was feeling anything. He only looked at her, hands in the pockets of his long silver jacket--a new one, but similar to its predecessor--brow furrowed and eyes entirely unreadable. There was no hints of his douchiness, but Selphie figured he too needed time to register everything that was going on and how to proceed.

The two of them had never really had a connection, not like others from the orphanage. It was that fact that made his betrayal in the war less painful for her than for the others. But as she looked at him now, a wave of some powerful emotion lit up her chest. Before, she’d never really had a reason or need to engage in conversation with him. She hadn’t wanted to, and neither had he. But now something was forcing both of their hands, and they had to come to terms with the fact that despite the lack of any real, deep connection, they had known each other for a long time, and there definitely were things to be said.

“Seifer,” she croaked out in this ugly way that had her wanting to throw herself off the cliff because it was so unlike her.

“Messenger girl from Squad A,” he said.

The emotion turned fiery and she frowned. “Hey, we’ve been through way too much to have you still be calling me that!” Instantly, she leaned back a little, eyes wide.

But Seifer just chuckled and looked away. “Selphie.”

Again the emotion changed, this time to an almost uncomfortable confusion. She scarcely recalled the times he had ever spoken her name. None of them were recent. It was almost as if his lips shouldn’t have been able to form the sounds when put in that order. But he had. And it was weird. She wondered if she should shout something again--whatever it would be--or if she waited long enough, he’d finally say something else and let her move on from this moment.

He did, after some long seconds, and looked back at her. “Why are you here?”

Selphie hid the notebook behind her back.

But rather than intrigue him, the act only had Seifer rolling his eyes. He turned away and gave her a careless wave. “I don’t actually care. I have stuff to do. Don’t get in my way.”

When he disappeared back inside the house, she sat down and opened her notebook. She wanted to leave, knowing he was here, knowing--it was all making sense to her the more she thought about it--he was the caretaker of this place, and would mostly _still_ be here for a few days at the least. Either they would maintain an uncomfortable level of silence, or would get stuck in a maelstrom of too many feelings and poor communication skills. She wrote about it in the notebook until the words turned to nonsensical scribbles that tore through the paper.

Maelstrom of too many feelings and poor communication skills it was.

She found him inside, reading something about Centra. Beside him against the wall, rested Hyperion, as shiny and sharp as ever.

“You still haven’t upgraded that?” Selphie asked.

Seifer looked up, his eyes irritated, as if he had expected her to leave now that he was there.

Selphie had the urge to take a giant swig from her favorite Balamb brandy, but the only alcohol she knew of was in her bag, in another room, unopened, and though desperate for her attention, not a viable option at just that moment.

When she said nothing, Seifer continued reading.

“Hey,” she said. “I asked you question.”

With a sigh, Seifer closed the book, and got to his feet, suddenly dwarfing Selphie. As he loomed over her, he said, “If you knew anything about gunblades, you’d know I keep Hyperion fully upgraded. I’m not a fan of changing its look. I have an . . . attachment.”

Selphie just made an awkward face, unsure what to do.

Luckily, Seifer saved her the effort. “Now what the hell do you want?” Before she spoke, he put up a finger, turned, and walked away a few feet. “No, how long are you going to be here?”

“Seven months,” she said.

The man winced. “Seven . . . months?”

She put her hands behind her back and swayed a little. “How about you?”

His face snapped to her, eyes narrowed. “This is where I live.”

“What?” Selphie said in a long drawn-out way. “But, like, then how come I haven’t seen you all the time I’ve been here? I’ve been here a week!”

“I was out hunting,” Seifer said.

Selphie’s lips rounded. “Oh. That sounds like you. Are you going to kick me out?”

The corner of his mouth actually lifted up. “I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

She let out a little squeak, but covered by saying, “You bet your ass you can’t get rid of me. I’m here to stay. I guess I’ll just have to live with you being here, too!”

Seifer picked up his book and moved past her to the door.

Quickly, she spoke again, and he stopped. “Hey, I . . . Four years gives you a lot of time to think, you know. And now that I see you, I guess there’s a lot that I want to say.”

“If you’re here to chastise me, don’t bother. I’ve heard it all,” he said.

Selphie turned and looked at him with round eyes. “I hear Matron took responsibility for everything you did, so that you wouldn’t go to prison or anything. Even the stuff after we fought her . . . And she gave you this house, basically. Even after all you did, I never really hated you. I mean, I thought I did. I really thought I did. But . . . I’m glad Matron did all that for you.”

The gunbladist smirked, but he left without any more words.

That night, as she lay in her hammock, watching the stars move through the sky, she heard muffled cries from the house. It was such a jarring error in the usual symphony she’d come to familiarize herself with while at the orphanage. In the middle of the night, she was awoken by more sounds, this time something smashing on the wall. She forced herself to ignore it and fall back asleep.

The next day, Seifer mentioned nothing about it, but she did notice some broken vase pieces in the trash as she was making breakfast. Just like him, she ignored it, and instead, they ate in silence at opposite sides of the table. Seifer finished first, and he left out the back.

He reappeared in the evening, while Selphie was working out on the cliff. Blood glistened off Hyperion in the setting sun’s light, and he had a cut on his forehead. He walked right past her as she was on her thirty-second push up, kicked the door open, and disappeared inside. Selphie finished her set and sat on her knees, dabbing at the sweat on her hairline, and staring at the house even though she could not see or hear Seifer.

At dinner time he was there at the table, wound cleaned up, but not bandaged. Selphie wondered if he cared enough to treat it.

It went on like that for days, until Selphie just had to speak. On her own, she could suppress the urge, having nobody to talk to. But now that there was one, an important one, the urge was too powerful. In the morning, she followed him, nunchakus in hand, down the path to the beach and east up the coastline, until after nearly twenty minutes, he stopped and rounded on her.

“Stop following me,” he said.

“Not going to happen. Battle’s always safer when you got a partner,” she insisted. She waved her nunchakus in the air. “Besides, look at these, look how sad they are. I may be able to stand a seven month long vacation without fighting, but they can’t. They need something to do.” 

When Seifer gave her a hopeless look, she just shook the nunchakus again, and he motioned for her to keep following him.

“You don’t have magic, do you?” Seifer asked.

“It’s real weird to have trained for so long to use magic and then not actually use it. I mean, it’s been years since I’ve had a GF, but I’m not really used to it,” she said.

He stopped and she almost ran into him. “As long as you’re not useless.”

Selphie grinned. “I could totally kick your ass.”

“You already did,” Seifer said.

A memory of Lunatic Pandora, of fighting beside Squall and Zell to finally defeat a battered Seifer, ran through her mind. It can’t have been easy for him to mention that so nonchalantly. Her itchiness to fight monsters vanished at the memory. Even then, when she thought she’d hated Seifer, that battle had been hard. He had been so tired, so warped beyond who he really was. Selphie didn’t like seeing him that way, and she saw that still in him.

“Where’s Fujin and Raijin?” she asked, and then looked around as if they would suddenly just pop out and say hello. “Aren’t they always with you?”

At the mention of his friends, Seifer’s expression gentled. He rested Hyperion on his shoulder and looked out at the sunrise. “They’re . . .”

But he never finished, and when Selphie realized he wouldn’t, she said, “If you could go back to Garden, would you?”

Seifer snorted, his reverie broken, and he started walking again. “Fuuj would never let me do that, even if I wanted to. And I definitely do not want to. I’m not a SeeD, I’m not a Knight.” He stopped again suddenly and turned on her. “Squall’s a Knight. Tch. Of course Puberty Boy would luck out with the sorceress that doesn’t fuck him up.” An unsettling grin appeared on his face. “He got it all. Commander of Garden, a SeeD, a Knight, Rinoa, the respect of every goddamn pissant on this planet. Figures.”

Some Fastitocalon’s erupted from the sand, and far too quickly, Seifer had dispatched them. Their glimmering red corpses fell to the sand, and he spit on them. “I’m stuck killing the same monsters over and over again.”

Selphie looked at some blood on his cheek--not his, of course; he had given the monsters no chance to strike. “You know Squall respects you.”

“Why the hell do I care who he respects?” Seifer said. He planted Hyperion in the sand and rested his hands on the hilt, staring down at Selphie. “It’s easy for you--for all of you. You’re all goddamn heroes. And what am I?” He laughed once and licked the corner of his mouth. “The villain? That’s all you’ve ever seen me as, even when we were little kids.”

With a frown, Selphie said, “Well, you were always bullying Zell. That’s all you ever did: bully people. How else are we supposed to see you? You can’t be that stupid.” She winced when the fire in Seifer’s eyes diminished, but no apology left her lips, because it felt so wrong to apologize to Seifer Almasy.

“You’re right,” Seifer said, lifting Hyperion. “I’m a fucking moron. I’ve known that for four years now.” He started walking again. “If you follow me, I’ll kick your ass from here all the way to Balamb.”

For the rest of the day, she sat on the cliff, feet swinging, thinking about time compression. It had taken her longer than the others to recover from the experience. She’d had nightmares about being lost and alone for almost a full year afterward. Irvine helped her through them the most. Thinking about those days, when they had been so close, closer than anyone, they hurt, and she wondered if perhaps Seifer knew that pain. How long had it been since he’d seen Fujin and Raijin? Just how many times had he lost someone he’d shared his soul with? Of course, Irvine was still there, and she was okay now, but meeting Seifer again had brought back the loneliness she’d felt after time compression.

From the cliff, she could see him down the coast. She got to her feet and made a meal for both of them, so by the time he came back, the table was set. He was covered in more blood, a lot of it his own again, but he sat down and ate the meal she had made, even cleaned everything up when they were done. Later she went to the bathroom to shower, but found the door open, Seifer on the toilet seat, dabbing at a bleeding cut on his arm. Without his shirt on, Selphie could see just all the scars he had accumulated over the years, most of them probably from his last year living at the orphanage.

When she stood in the doorway, he threw the wet cloth in the sink, got to his feet, and brushed past her, letting her have the room.

In the middle of the night she awoke without a reason, and was surprised to see Seifer standing on the cliff edge without his usual long coat, a dark silhouette in the moonlight. Selphie thought about maybe walking over and striking up a conversation, but the thought . . . scared her. She just rolled over and stared at the blackness of her eyelids for hours until she heard Seifer go back inside again.

In the morning, she found him asleep on the couch. She giggled to herself, never having seen him look so vulnerable and childlike and kind in her life.

The smell of coffee must have woke him up, because a few minutes after making a pot, he drifted into the kitchen with wild bed head. He stopped in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his face. And then his eyes saw her, and for a moment he looked confused as to why she was there, maybe still stuck in dreamworld. But he got over it, his face settling into his resting frown, and he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“You’re calmer than I remember you,” Seifer said.

Selphie jumped. “Oh, no, no, no, I’m just forcing myself to be this way for the sake of the whole reason why I’m on this vacation. Er . . .”

Seifer looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup as he drank. He wiped coffee dribble from his lips with the back of his sleeve. “So even _you_ get tired? Huh. When we were kids, all you had was energy, and it was fucking annoying. You were also impervious to my . . .” He paused a second, and finished carefully with, “Teasing.”

“I get tired,” she protested.

“What about angry?” he said. “I’m waiting for you to bust my balls.”

She opened her mouth, but then closed it and distracted herself with a long swig of coffee that emptied her mug.

Seifer set his cup down. “The missile base. Trabia Garden.”

“Trabia Garden is great now,” she said. “It took a lot of effort, but everyone there never gives up.” Her hand curled into a fist and pressed into her chest. “It took us years, but Trabia Garden is even better than it was. Nothing can shake them.”

Seifer said nothing.

The coffee dregs in Selphie’s mug glared up at her. “Have you been there to see it yet?”

“Are they all as forgiving as you?” Seifer asked.

Selphie slowly shook her head. “You think I’m different, but you are too. I only see the Seifer I know--”

“The Seifer you know?” he scoffed. “You don’t even really know me. What you saw during the war, even before I became . . .” He cleared his throat and skipped on by the description both of them already knew. “Even before that, during the SeeD test, in Timber, at Garden, that was . . .” He shook his head angrily and downed the rest of his coffee. “Only Fujin and Raijin _really_ know who I am. And I’m fine with that. No one else needs to know. No one else matters. So don’t say you ever really knew me. You didn’t and you don’t.”

The chair screeched as he pushed it back over the tile and stood up. “I’m not just the mess you all see.”

He left again for the whole day, and Selphie managed to forget he existed for a few hours as she was swaying in her hammock, and then working out again. The pattern repeated for days: the tense breakfasts, the hours apart where they convinced themselves they were alone, and then upon Seifer’s return, they’d relapse back into awkward silence. They always ate their meals in each other’s company, however, probably clinging onto at least one aspect of human interaction to keep themselves from going stir-crazy. Of course, occasionally they’d speak to each other, but less in a conversation, and more in an informing matter upon necessity.

One evening, during Selphie’s eighth week there, Seifer came back with a particularly nasty cut above his eye. He went into the bathroom to deal with it himself. The third time Selphie heard him curse in pain, she finally left the kitchen and went to him, only to see him trying to stitch the cut up by himself.

“Stop, stop!” she said. “You’re going to stab your eye, I can feel it in my bones.” She reached a hand out, silently requesting he give the tools to her. When he responded only by attempting another stitch, she wrinkled her nose. “Hey!” she complained. “I’m serious. I’m going to kick your ass.”

Seifer groaned and yielded.

Selphie pulled in a chair from another room and put it in front of the toilet. “Er . . . slouch down.” He did, so it was easier for her to see. By the time she finished, his eyes were closed gently, all his tenseness from before gone, and he had made no more pained noises. With a swallow, she put the tools down, and only when Seifer heard the clack, did his eyes open. Immediately, he got to his feet and moved away from her. She only snorted.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and dragged the chair back to the kitchen.

But he never thanked her, and, as if the stitches had been enough for human interaction, he skipped dinner in favor of sleep. Selphie grumbled to herself when she too finally turned in, tossing and turning in her hammock. The first week of her vacation had been perfect, but ever since Seifer had shown up, all her anxiety, all her tiredness, all her reason for coming to the orphanage in the first place, was more apparent than ever, and right back where it had been before she’d come here.

Seifer’s bouts in the middle of the night made things worse. She wondered if her own nightmares would return with the constant presence of his. Wondering left her no time to get any actual decent sleep that would help prove her thoughts right or wrong. And it lasted for nights, until eventually she considered her moments of unconsciousness merely as power naps to keep her from going entirely crazy. As her reason for being there and the cure became more and more undone, somehow reverting her back to the place she had been years ago, her anger returned, stronger and stronger.

At the beginning of July, two and a half months in, she snapped. Seifer was coming back from one of his days, beat up as usual, and she was working out by the cliff, as usual. She got to her feet and she blocked his path to the door. She knew she looked ridiculous, a sweaty and wild-eyed five-foot-two mass, and even Seifer looked at her in only faint curiosity. But before he could get a word out, her tiny fist socked him right in the jaw and he went stumbling back.

“What the hell was that?” he exclaimed when he had regained his footing.

“Are you even doing anything in your life?” she asked, arms out at her sides. “Or do you just sleep, eat, and get beat up by monsters all the time? Where’s Fujin and Raijin? You’re ruining my vacation. I came here to rest, and now I can’t sleep.”

Seifer’s eyes darkened. “I’m ruining _your_ vacation? You’re the one who just turned up uninvited. I was perfectly happy here by myself until you showed up. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“Anything,” she said. “Literally anything. It’s making me crazy watching you do the same exact things every single day.”

“Are _you_ any better?” he asked. He licked some blood off his lips. “What gives you the right to judge me?”

Selphie started shaking. “The fact that you betrayed all of us. The one thing you did during the war that was your choice alone, but it was the one that led to all the others. Like firing missiles at my home. Hurting my friends. I don’t care that you tried to kill me, but you tried to kill my friends. I know you were possessed, but you wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t made that one choice!”

“Of course I know that,” he growled. “And I’m still living with it. You want to know where Fujin and Raijin are? They’re happy off in Winhill. That’s where we went after the war, after Balamb. For awhile I wasn’t happier, I thought I couldn’t be.” He let out an angry groan as he moved his jaw, still aching from her surprisingly powerful knuckles. “You’re not the only one who lost people you care about,” he said. “I was bringing them down.”

“I can’t believe that, though,” Selphie said. “They were with you through the whole war. I mean, even after Lunatic Pandora . . .”

Seifer took a few deep breaths, maybe to calm himself. “They didn’t leave me, I left them. And don’t just tell me I can go back. I can’t. Now get the hell out of my way.”

Irvine’s face flashed in Selphie’s mind. She shook it out of there and moved away from the door, angry at just herself now. Seifer brushed past her rudely, but it was rudeness she knew she deserved. A few minutes later she followed him in, except she went to the kitchen, to the icebox. She packed some ice into a bag and then went to the bathroom where Seifer was yet again cleaning himself up. He ignored her when she offered the ice pack.

After a few moments of shaking it in the air, she just moved closer and held the ice pack to his jaw herself. He flinched back a little at the coldness, and grabbed her wrist, though he didn’t move it away.

“Ow,” she said at his tight grip.

His fingers relaxed a little, but still hung on. “You’re right,” he said for the second time she’d been there. His cerulean eyes found hers, boring in like icy spears that reminded her for a just a moment of the ones Edea had pierced Squall with at the parade. And she almost dropped the ice pack, but those same ice spears that threatened to dissolve her also kept her right there, strong and still as a rock.

“Maybe it was time for one of you to finally hit my ass,” Seifer said.

Selphie swallowed.

They stared at each other, and then Seifer’s fingers moved down to her hand, where he shifted the weight of the pack into his hand instead. “I’ve been the most goddamned awful host, haven’t I?” He laughed and then winced in pain. “That’s what Matron fucking wants me to do. Take care of her house, of its guests. That includes you. Sefie.”

An electric shock jolted through Selphie’s body, and she snapped away from him.

The next morning, he left, but to her surprise, he returned only an hour later, and with some freshly caught fish. He cooked them for lunch, and then invited her to join him--she was outside trying to write in her notebook, but only managing endless, lazy loops. His jaw was red with tinges of green, and she focused on that more than the delicious fish in front of him--albeit, not as delicious as Balamb’s kind. Either he didn’t notice her staring, or he was ignoring it, and she had no idea which one she preferred.

The next day, he stayed inside reading, only coming out when Selphie was working out. She watched him from the corner of her eyes, as he took off his shirt and shoes, resting them over a rock, and joined her in the ab crunch fest. Halfway through, she stopped and just watched him do it. It seemed so effortless when he did it, especially so fast, without a hitch in his breathing. When he was done with ab crunches, she moved on to push-ups, and she admired his movements until he looked over and she scrambled to start her own push-ups.

When they finished, and she was sitting on the ground drinking from her canteen, he stood over at the cliff edge again, and this time he was silhouetted by evening sunlight. Selphie eventually peeled herself off the ground and went inside to shower. When she came out, dinner was ready again, more fish, but prepared different than before. She sat at the table, baffled, but still he made no comment about anything.

He did go out for hours again the following day, returning home battered and bruised. Selphie helped patch him up without complaint, all the while wondering how hard it was for him to come out of his comfort zone, the one made of so many walls--too many walls. But even she kept her mouth shut.

It went on like that for days, the tenseness gone, but no words spoken.

Until, out of the blue, Selphie was awoken from her sleep from a violent and disturbing dream. It took her a few minutes to see the world as it was, solid and real, not like the transforming and melting one from her dream. The coldness of time compression, though only a false version from a dream creating by her own mind, seeped into her bones and covered her skin in sweat.

Seifer appeared, Hyperion in hand, looking for some source of danger, but there was only Selphie. They locked eyes for a time, Selphie panting, and Seifer still as a corpse, his normally blue eyes now turned silver by the moonlight, wide with fear. Her scream must have awoken something from his own nightmares.

After the stare off, he turned away and went back inside.

Neither of them mentioned anything in the morning. Despite the blazing heat of July in Centra, she shivered, and she noticed Seifer notice, but their game of silence was still alive and kicking. As he disappeared for the day, she sunk into his chair and read a surprisingly interesting book about a section of Esthar and its history over the years, leading right up to the end of the sorceress war. She was pulled out of the book world when Seifer slapped something heavy on the kitchen table, and she went to investigate, both shocked and not to see him beat up and also with his hand on a hunted stag.

“I’m tired of fish,” Seifer said, the first thing spoken in more than a week.

“It’s my birthday,” she said.

Seifer blinked and then made a confused and irritated face.

“I’m 21,” she said. “Same age as you for a few months.”

“If it’s only for a few months, then you’re not the same age as me,” Seifer said. He stretched his arms out behind him, sighed, and trudged to the bathroom.

Selphie followed him at a reasonable distance, dragging a chair along with her. When he sat down on the toilet, she sat down on the chair right in front of him. Before he could pick up a cloth, she snatched it from under him, got it wet under the faucet, and then held it up in front of him. “May I?” she asked, her voice laced with a kind of cheerfulness. “I’m going to whether you say yes or no.”

A tiny sparkle appeared in his eyes, and a tiny smile to match. “Whatever.”

She wiped away the blood from his fresh wounds, lightening her touch whenever he winced. When she was done, she rinsed the cloth out in the sink, and then started in on some ointment over the wounds, old and new. She finished with a swipe of her thumb over the cut above his eye she’d first stitched. It had healed nicely, leaving only a tiny faint line that would be gone in no time at all with the help of the ointment.

“I’ve never actually had venison,” she mused as she washed her hands from the ointment.

Seifer just looked at her.

An emotion prickled in her chest and she kept talking so she wouldn’t focus on it. “There actually aren’t a whole lot of deer on Balamb. I mean, you know that, obviously.” She giggled, and mentally cursed herself for suddenly turning so giddy now that they were talking again. “There was actually a booth at the last Garden Festival that had some venison jerky. I swear, Zell was always there, but actually, I think it was because of Melanie. After the library girl graduated, he hadn’t really found anyone he liked until Melanie, and I think he’s even crazier about her than the library girl. And she’s a SeeD, so that helps too. They haven’t been on a mission together yet, but there’s plenty of time for all that.”

She glanced at Seifer to see his reaction. He was still just looking at her, his smile wider, and the sparkle in his eyes brighter. Before that emotion in her chest grew any bigger too, she sidled out of the bathroom with a weak excuse that she wanted some fresh air. She sat in her hammock, looking at the ocean, notebook open in her lap, desperate for some words, but her hand lay still, unable to conjure anything sensical, therefore relinquishing itself to doing nothing instead.

The smell of cooked meat preceded Seifer’s summons to dinner. They sat on opposite sides of the table as usual and ate the tough meat in silence. At the end, right as she was going to thank him and turn in, Seifer got up and pulled something out of the refrigerator. He conveniently kept his back to her so she saw nothing, not until he turned around, and in his hands lay a tiny plate with a piece of cinnamon bread and a lit candle. He set it before her and then sat back down at the table.

With the candlelight flickering in her face, she looked up at him with pursed lips. “Are you giving me a birthday party?"

Seifer rolled his eyes. “You weren’t going to give yourself one.”

Selphie grinned and bit her lip. “Okay, okay, I gotta make a wish. If I had known beforehand, I would have prepared.” She shut her eyes tight and focused all her energy into the wish. When she finally found it amongst the clutter of her mind, she blew the candle out and laughed.

Across the table, Seifer was smiling at her like she’d only seen him smile when he thought about Fujin and Raijin.

She swallowed noisily and then took a bite of the cinnamon bread. With her mouth full, she said, “Sho, when did fu befum a good pffoook?” She swallowed and then smiled. “Have you kept this from everyone the whole time?”

“Raijin taught me,” Seifer said. 

“Well . . . thank you,” she said. 

Seifer just shrugged and then got to his feet. “I’m going to turn in.”

Selphie waved at him as he passed. When he had gone, her cheeks got hot and she ate the rest of the cinnamon bread way too fast. She fell asleep in her hammock, head spinning, wondering how on Earth her vacation had taken such a turn. She and Seifer could have been considered friends the way they were acting, and that was something none of the others save Rinoa would believe. It had been the calmest birthday she’d had in seven years, but even without the excitement of a party of her own organization, it had been nice, and surprisingly unlonely.

She drifted asleep without meaning to, mid-thought, and for the first time in a long while, not at all anxious. Even with her syrupy sleep, she woke up in the middle of the night. With a huge yawn, she sat up and stretched and wondered why she had woken up. Only when she saw Seifer, once again standing at the cliff, his coat swaying in the warm breeze, did she know why. She hopped out of her hammock and walked over to his side.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked with another yawn.

“Slept great,” he said.

Selphie gave a sleepy frown. “Then why . . . Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

“Yes, it is,” he said.

She breathed in a huge whiff of salty air and sighed in contentment. “Did you actually sleep well, or . . . like I’ve heard you . . . Well . . . Ehhhh . . . Sorry.” Hiding her face, she ran a hand through her hair, sarcastically applauding her words.

“I was sleeping well,” he said.

“I’m so confused then,” she said, lifting her chin a little as she gazed out over the midnight-blue water. “Like, you just randomly decided to wake up from a perfectly good sleep, get fully dressed, and come stand on a cliff and just . . . well, just stand there.”

Seifer nodded.

Selphie made a face, but still shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Seifer said.

Selphie almost jumped out of her skin--she did physically move away from him a little. “You w-what?”

“About Trabia,” Seifer said, his voice low. “I wish I could say all of it was the sorceress, and she was in my mind pretty deep, even by then . . .” He let out a tiny curse. “Some of it was me. I remember wanting, for myself, I remember wanting for myself to destroy Trabia. And I don’t even know why.”

Selphie wrapped her arms around herself.

In the moonlight, she could make out his profile, and she focused on that, on how his lips moved from the side when he spoke. “I was an asshole. Shit, I’m still an asshole. That’s why I left Fujin and Raijin, because I didn’t want them to have to put up with all my post-traumatic shit. It was fucking draining them, I could see it. And then I saw it doing the same thing to you. I’m a goddamn mess, even after all these years, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“I should have been punished. Done some time. But Matron . . .” His head bowed, and his hands curled into fists. “She shouldn’t have taken all the blame. I mean, she came out of it okay, that’s why she did it, but I didn’t get anything. Nothing that was coming to me. Even now . . .” His head swung up, chin in the air, eyes closed. “The world just ignores me.”

Selphie smiled a little. “That’d drive me crazy, being ignored. I like being in the spotlight, doing stuff. All the stuff!”

Seifer smiled too.

“So . . .” she said. “Is this the real you? Or . . . more like the real you?”

“Hyne,” he breathed, eyes opening. “Self-pitying and shit? Part of it, as much as it kills me to say that. It’s easier to be like this when I’m with Fuuj and Raij, but I know for sure they don’t care about it, they just care about me.”

Selphie bit her lip. “Did you show Rinoa this side, too?”

“It’s not a side,” he snapped and then his voice grew quiet. “Those months with Rinoa were good. I was just a guy. Back then, I was mostly a shithead just at school, because I could be. I wanted to be better than Squall, too. But I don’t care about that anymore.”

“You just wanna go to prison? Prison sucks,” Selphie said, thinking back on her brief spell in D-District.

“What do you think, Sefie?” Seifer asked.

Again, her body jolted when he said her nickname.

He noticed. “We may not have a whole lot of memories together, but that doesn’t mean there’s none. I do remember them. Most of them involve that fucking cowboy chasing you around like the annoying shit he is. What’s up with him anyway? He finally get over you?”

Selphie gave a sad smile. “Yeah.”

Seifer grunted. “Good.”

“I think you’re good now,” Selphie said. “With the whole penance for what you did in the war. Everyone forgave you a long time ago.”

“Even Squall?” Seifer asked.

The worry in his voice made her giggle. “Yeah, Squall was the first one.”

“And what about you?” he asked. And then almost as an afterthought, “Selphie.”

Selphie let her arms free and swung them at her sides as she rocked on her heels. “I said everyone, didn’t I?”

Seifer caught one of her flailing hands. The emotion erupted in her chest, and this time she knew she wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. She fought to contain her breathing, keeping her expression as nonchalant as possible as he ran his thumb over her skin.

“Are you really going to stay here for--what is it now--four more months? Four and a half. I don’t even remember,” he said, still holding her hand.

“. . . Why would my plans have changed?” she said. “I made them before I knew you were here, and I’m still going to hold to them, no matter who you are.” She detected one hitch in her voice, and even as small as it was, her heart still nearly died.

Seifer’s grip tightened. “Selphie,” he said, his voice low again, the quality of it making her heart beat faster and faster. His brow furrowed and he gave her a critical look, eyes swimming some some kind of conflict she couldn’t place--at least, not in this light. “I really haven’t said your name a whole lot.” He lifted their hands a little higher.

“Usually you don’t call anyone by their name. You know, Chicken-wuss, Puberty Boy, Instructor . . .” Selphie said.

“Messenger girl from Squad A,” he whispered. For a second, his eyes got a little distant, like he was remembering something. “One day I’ll tell you about my romantic dream.” He smiled at the thought and then focused on her again--she, who was utterly bewildered at what was happening right now.

He dropped her hand, and the emotion in her chest almost died, but his hand moved to her cheek. It rested there for a few seconds as he looked at her, and then he leaned down and gave her the a soft, tender kiss.

“Did you just k-kiss me?” she asked, eyes round, the emotion surging through her body to envelope the whole thing.

“I think that’s what it’s called, yeah,” he said. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

Selphie recalled a memory, years ago when she was so young. On that day, she’d been standing on the cliff where they are now, the sun rising behind her as she ate up the beauty of the awakening ocean. Seifer had come up. She had stuck her tongue out at him. He’d gotten angry then and thrown something to the ground, then ran away. It was a little paper flower. Selphie couldn’t remember what she’d done with it, but she remembered it.

She was so enraptured in the memory, that Seifer seemed to almost panic at her silence.

“I should go back inside,” he muttered.

But this time she took his hand. “Oh no, I was off in my mind. I got sidetracked.” She giggled. “Because of you, actually. You distracted me from yourself.”

Seifer frowned. “What?”

“Nothing, ahem.” She dropped his hand, embarrassed, and clasped hers behind her back. “Romantic dream . . . This is weird. I’m sure I must be dreaming.”

“I know I’m not,” Seifer said.

“‘Cause it’s not bad?” Selphie said. “After time compression, it was really hard for me. So I kind of know what you’re going through.”

Seifer puts his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes again--Selphie watched his profile again. “I’m still an asshole.”

Selphie gave a huge laugh this time. “Oh, I know that.”

The man didn’t open his eyes, but he did scrunch his face up when she laughed. “This might completely just fall apart, you know. I’m actually expecting it to. I’ve never had any luck in this area. Something always happens, usually because of me.”

“That’s probably why, if you just always expect it to. Don’t expect anything,” Selphie said, throwing her arms out. “Just go! And then see what happens. And then if it turns out bad, okay. But if it turns out good, then yay!”

Seifer opened one eye to give her a look. “Just like that?”

“Well,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “Why not?”

He scoffed.

“Hey, Seifer, look at me,” Selphie said.

His body hesitated, but he opened his eyes and looked down at her. Never before had she seen such fear in Seifer Almasy’s eyes. Was it because now she had said his name, or something else entirely? Whatever the case, she loved it.

“At least, I suppose we can give it four months or whatever,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

Selphie shook her head. “Why what?”

“You can’t tell me you fucking feel the same way,” he said.

“I didn’t four months ago,” she said. “And I’m not sure what I feel now. Lately, I’ve been feeling something, and I think maybe this has something to do with it. But, at the really real very least, there’s always friends, like we were in the orphanage.” She hugged herself. “You know, when you gave me that flower.”

It took three seconds for Seifer’s to transform from confused to mortified, and she knew he now remembered that little memory too.

“I’ve lived through a sorceress war and time compression,” Selphie declared. “The world is weird, but hey, that’s what makes it interesting, right? I have enjoyed the past few weeks, so I don’t see why there can’t be more weeks like those. What do you think, Seifer? And then I can tell everyone about how wonderful you actually are.”

At the word “wonderful,” Seifer looked away. “Tell everyone? Shit, no. I can’t have Zell and Squall knowing I’m . . .” 

Selphie gave him a shit-eating grin. “Knowing you’re what?” She lightly punched him in the arm. “Maybe we should get everyone down here, all of us together again, with Matron too. And we should just celebrate. We haven’t all been here together in so long. Don’t you think it’ll help with the whole forgiveness thing? The whole moving on thing?”

“You said they all had forgiven me already,” Seifer said.

“Yeah, I know. I mean you,” Selphie said.

“If you’re going to do that, that train wreck, do it later,” he said. “I still haven’t enjoyed all my peace and quiet.” When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “It’s not me that needs to fight monsters, it’s Hyperion. What am I going to die? Let it go without some enjoyment?”

Selphie snorted, but nodded. “Of course. I need time to plan it anyway. Everyone’s so busy. Hmm. I mean, I love being busy. I actually was starting to go a little bit out of my mind until you showed up.” She gave him a sidelong glance and blushed again.

“Me too,” Seifer said. “I should . . . actually go to sleep now. Seems stupid to let a good night’s sleep go to waste. Not that you’re a waste. I . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit.”

“Good night,” Selphie said with a smile and a wave. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Seifer took a deep breath, and gave her an awkward wave back. Then his fingers closed in a fist and came to his side. “Selphie.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Seifer.”


End file.
